


Body Clock

by Floralfatality



Series: Adventures in Quarantine 2020 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Did I mention it's gay?, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay mugs, M/M, No feet apart cus they're real gay, One Shot, Or one gay mug, Quarantine, The Author Regrets Nothing, Two bros chilling in a lockdown, author doesn't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:21:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23493139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floralfatality/pseuds/Floralfatality
Summary: Sometimes being Lance McClain’s boyfriend was more like being an under-glorified babysitter. The pay was next to none (he supposed the occasional dicking counted), he never got any thanks (only abuse), and whenever Lance made a mess, he was the one that had to clean it up. The only thing that had changed since the lockdown had started was that now it had become a full-time position.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Adventures in Quarantine 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690312
Comments: 10
Kudos: 143





	Body Clock

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Hope you guys are all keeping safe and sound with everything going on. This is kind of different to my usual stuff (read: it's absolutely angstless) but I had a flash of inspiration amid my writer's block and this is what came out. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> So, this is maybe possibly probably going to become part of a series of Klance quarantine fics. I have a whole list to work through but I'm usually slow and I'm using this as a challenge to try and work a bit faster i.e. stop being such a perfectionist and just post stuff. Hopefully I'll have another one ready soon -- fingers crossed!

Sometimes being Lance McClain’s boyfriend was more like being an under-glorified babysitter. The pay was next to none (he supposed the occasional dicking counted), he never got any thanks (only abuse), and whenever Lance made a mess, he was the one that had to clean it up. The only thing that had changed since the lockdown had started was that now it had become a full-time position.

Keith jolted awake at the sound of something shattering in the kitchen, flying upright so quickly that he almost overshot and smacked his head against his knee. He stayed frozen for a few seconds, poised like a jack-in-the-box as he listened for any further disturbances, but relaxed the moment he heard a familiar string of curses muttered in Spanish. 

He looked down at the empty mattress beside him to confirm Lance’s absence and then his eyes flitted over to the alarm clock which was displaying an obnoxiously bright set of numbers, heralding the early hour.

Keith let out a sigh of mild frustration – they’d practically become a catchphrase from the moment he’d met his ridiculous partner – and threw the covers aside, slipping into the bulky red cat slippers Lance had bought him for Christmas and shuffling out into the living area. Once he’s up, he’s up, and he figured he should probably go check the idiot hadn’t hurt himself anyway.

As he exited the bedroom, his eyes fell on his boyfriend, fully-dressed and crouched in their little kitchen cranny. Kosmo lifted his head from his bed across the room as if to say ‘control your idiot,’ and then promptly went back to sleep. Asshole.

Keith sauntered over to the island counter and his irritation abated (only slightly – he always hovered at a baseline level whenever Lance looked like he was doing something stupid) at the look of dozy determination on his boyfriend’s face as he played fifty-two card pick-up with the remains of his favourite mug.

‘What are you doing?’ Keith asked, raising an eyebrow with as much condescension as he could muster.

Lance startled and a few shards slipped free of his cupped palm and back to the tiled floor.

‘Geez, mullet, warn a guy,’ he said, then punctuated it with a yawn. ‘My favourite mug, smashed to smithereens. Smithereens, I say!’ The exclamation didn’t have its usual zest, spoken through a thick wall of exhaustion that was common to Lance in the mornings. Usually, it was cute, but Keith was cranky, and cute had become synonymous with annoyingly oblivious.

‘That’s not what I meant,’ replied Keith, but he wasn’t sure his boyfriend was even listening.

‘This is homophobia,’ Lance murmured and Keith rolled his eyes, sinking to the floor beside him to help pick up the pieces. It was a stupid mug, something Pidge had seen collecting dust in the back of a thrift store and nabbed as a last-minute addition to Lance’s last birthday present. Painted with rainbow stripes and bearing the slogan ‘Nobody knows I’m gay,’ she said it was as subtle as Lance. Lance said it was bi-erasure. He loved it anyway.

‘We can get you another crappy mug,’ Keith grumbled. ‘Just tell me why you’re up six thirty in the morning trying to destroy our already shitty kitchen.’

Lance huffed, dropping his collection of fragments into Keith’s hands when proffered. ‘Well, mullet, there’s this thing called money, and money usually comes in the form of a paycheck – sometimes lottery winnings but you’ve got to be, like, Felix Felicis lucky for that to happen – and to get a paycheck you usually have to go to this thing called a job, and a job is –’

Having dumped the shards into the trashcan behind him, Keith clamped a hand over his boyfriend’s mouth.

‘Lance.’ He could almost cry; whether it would be out of amusement or exhaustion was yet to be seen. ‘You don’t have work today.’

He felt the intake of breath against his palm and saw Lance raise a finger in preparation for a rebuttle, but then something flashed behind his eyes and he froze. 

Keith felt a (smug) smile slip through at his idiot’s ridiculous expression. ‘You know we’re under lockdown, right?’

Lance’s eyes went wider, his face flushing redder, and suddenly he broke free from his paralysis, batting at Keith’s arm until he finally released him.

‘Shut uuuup!’ he shrieked, dropping his face into his hands. ‘AaAaAh, I can’t believe I missed out on a prime opportunity to sleep in on a Tuesday!’

‘Wednesday,’ Keith corrected, getting to his feet and begrudgingly holding out a hand for Lance. ‘Why were you even awake? You turned your alarms off.’

‘I don’t know!’ Lance cried, almost accusatory as he rocketed to standing. ‘My stupid internal-clock thingy is all messed up!’

‘Maybe I’d feel sorry for you if you didn’t wake me up too,’ Keith countered, crossing his arms.

‘Wow, Keith, it really is all about you,’ Lance glared, but Keith had learned to differentiate the real ones from the indignant drama queen ones. ‘Spare some thought for your poor over-worked boyfriend. He’s ruined himself with early mornings and he does it all for the kids. Think of the kids, Keith!’

‘Honestly, I don’t think the kids would mind if you didn’t show up after that pop-quiz you gave them last week.’

‘Yeah, well, they deserved it. I told them again and again to learn that vocabulary and you know what? They still think _embarazada_ means embarrassed. It means pregnant Keith! Do you know what it’s like to read through a hundred different essays talking about the one time my thirteen-year-old students all got pregnant?!’

‘It’s hilarious,’ replied Keith. ‘You read them out to me when you were marking them and you were laughing harder than that time Hunk accidentally baked a dick cake.’

‘It won’t be so funny when they all fail their exams! And who’s fault will it be? The new guy, of course! I’m not a bad teacher, Keith: kids are just stupid! Why did no one tell me kids are so stupid???’

‘Okay,’ Keith said, unable to hold back a fond chuckle; stupid gay heart. ‘I think you should sit down.’

Keith slipped an arm around Lance’s waist and was trying his best to stay angry – because if Lance could get away with waking him up at ass-crack o’clock without any repercussions then Keith was more whipped than he thought and he refused to let Adam be right about this – when suddenly Lance ground to a halt, letting out a nearly pantomime gasp. 

‘KeeEEeIiiIIth!’ he groaned, turning into Keith’s chest and dropping his head to his shoulder in defeat. ‘I broke my favourite mug for _nooothiiiing_.’

‘Actually, I think you were trying to do you a favour,’ he said, relenting and wrapping both arms around Lance’s waist. He felt something wet soak into his t-shirt. ‘Are you… are you crying?’ he asked, bewildered.

‘Why are you so mean?’ Lance mumbled into the fabric. ‘A great soldier has fallen today.’ 

Keith let out another sigh and started rocking them from side to side. ‘Because you’re annoying and I’m secretly trying to get rid of you,’ he replied, drowning in the irony.

‘Too bad,’ Lance sniffled, hugging him back now. ‘You’re stuck with me until good ol’ ‘Rona gives up the ghost.’

‘I guess I’ve lasted this long.’ 

After a moment of stewing in his own whippedness – he’d have to check for physical marks later – Keith gave his boyfriend a poke in the cheek. ‘C’mon. Since you woke me up, you can keep me company.’

‘You’re not gonna put on another Mothman documentary are you?’

‘I never have any time to watch them normally,’ Keith protested.

‘And you say I’m a chore.’

An utterly thankless job.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you comment I will love you forever: your author needs validation.


End file.
